


The Red Sun Setting

by Nilla00



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Comfort Sex, Deadlock Gang, Depression, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Pain, Self-Hatred, Some Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 00:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14248791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilla00/pseuds/Nilla00
Summary: The world has been teetering on the brink of the second omnic crisis, but this time around, the world is not even close to prepared for the carnage ahead, as giant metal beasts the size of trucks have been rumored to be roaming the battlefields, killing mercilessly and coating cities in blood.Hanzo Shimada, a former assassin and prince to a massive crime empire, feels as if he deserves no more than a life of pain after the atrocities he has performed in his life, however, everything changes after his brother, thought to be dead for the past ten years, comes back to ask him to fight for his humanity, and for the world.When the people need heroes once more, will Hanzo be able to take up his weapons in order to protect the innocent, alongside his long-lost brother and his brother's comrades, including a very obnoxious and strangely familiar cowboy, or will his inner turmoil overpower him?





	1. Chapter 1; Raven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just introducing a bit of backstory, as well as the main two characters. I love the idea of Jesse and Hanzo knowing each other from a long time ago, it adds a bit of depth to their relationship. :)  
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!

Part I  
羽

Rain fell in quiet sheets upon the pavement outside of the Harlequin bar, steaming where it landed upon bitumen still hot from Santa Fe’s midday sun. 

Women and men loitered on the streets, passing in and out of restaurants, young ladies hollering when they were caught in the downpour.

The barkeep, Marcel, polished pint glasses with an old rag, eyes jittery and nervous, watching the entrance to his shop diligently.   
Behind him hung frames of family photos, his children beaming smiles from behind the dusty glass. His prosthetic shoulder creaking faintly with each twist of his arm.

Few men sat around the bar, being so late in the night, two murmuring in quiet conversation, another sitting in-front of Marcel, a long time friend of his.   
“Quiet night for a Friday, Marc.” His friend, Daniel, took a long sip of his whiskey, swirling the dark liquid around his glass.

Marcel sighed and lowered the pint glass that he’d polished multiple times that night already.  
“I told most of my regulars to avoid coming in tonight. Didn’t want to put them in any danger.”  
Marcel’s accent always sounded so much thicker when he talked with Daniel.

He let out a low chuckle. “Good ta’ see that some people still have the brains to listen to advise huh?.” Marcel nodded in agreement.   
“I would suggest you retire soon too, Daniel, lest you give them any reason to blow your brains out.”  
Daniel smiled, shifting back in the bar stool.  
“Oh? Must be some big baddies if you’re telling me to scoot like that.”   
He raised an eyebrow in question at Marcel, who eyed the almost empty bar cautiously, he turned his attention back to his friend once he was satisfied no-one was in earshot.

“Yeah, real bad guys. From what Carlson told me, I reckon it could even be the top dog of the Shimada clan itself.” Daniel’s eyes widened at that, and he instinctively glanced around the bar.  
“That's the one controlling most of Japan right? Why the fuck is the Shimada clan doing business with Deadlock of all people?”   
Daniel sighed again, brow furrowing.  
“That's what I don’t know, I thought the Shimada's had enough influence to run guns themselves, but perhaps their grasp on the criminal empire is loosening.”  
“An empire that big doesn’t just slip down the ranks, Marcel. Maybe Deadlock has something to blackmail the Shimada’s with? That would explain the top dog coming all the way out to Santa Fe of all places.”   
Daniel slid his glass over the mahogany bench, and Marcel quietly refilled it, picking up a new pint glass to polish.

“Perhaps so. Whatever the reason might be, they will be arriving shortly, no doubt. Carlson and his men arrived just before you, they’ve been waiting in the poker room since.”  
Daniel smiled at that.  
“You know deadlock’s scared when they’ve been waiting an hour without a hint of a complaint aye?”   
Marcel Laughed humorously.  
“I suggest you leave now, Daniel. Have a good night.”

Daniel rose from his seat and clasped hands with his friend, before nodding and heading towards the door. All the other patrons had left during the passing of their conversation.

“And you, Marc. Stay out of trouble, I've heard that the dragons tend to bite!”   
He exited the bar with a laugh that echoed down the street. Marcel shook his head and returned to cleaning the bar. 

 

It was little over five minutes before the creak of the doors alerted Marcel, who was stunned by the lack of footsteps he heard approaching the bar.

The first to enter were clearly bodyguards, stocky Japanese men no doubt armed to the teeth with well-concealed weapons, earpieces glittering under the bar’s lights. 

Four of the bodyguards entered, followed by the scariest man Marcel thought he had ever seen.

He had greying hair that was pulled tight into a bun on the crown of is head, and his eyes were so sharp Marcel imagined he could slit throats just by looking at them.   
He could see faint tattoos spanning from his left ear down below his suit collar, crimson red in coloration.   
Definitely the leader of the clan with looks like that. Marcel thought to himself.

He swallowed thickly, his fear pooling in his stomach as he averted his gaze. From behind the Shimada leader followed a younger man, an almost carbon copy, except with much younger features and a shorter, stockier build. A relative perhaps?

As the men passed by the bar, they slowed to a stop. The older Japanese man turned slightly, inclining his head towards Marcel. A question without ever speaking a word.  
Marcel, out of fear of having his head lopped clean off of his shoulders, dipped down in a deep bow towards the Shimada leader, hoping that his limited knowledge of Japanese culture would aid in his survival.  
“At the end of the bar, in the first poker room, Sir.” He spoke softly, avoiding any eye contact with the leader, head still lowered. 

There was a tense pause before the convoy continued walking through the bar before they disappeared behind a large red door leading into one of the poker rooms.

Once they had left the room, Marcel let out a deep breath, just now noticing the sweat pooling on his forehead and the back of his neck. He swallowed thickly, and poured himself a large glass of whiskey.

This is going to be one heck of a night

He chuckled quietly and walked from around the bar to begin wiping down tables.

Part II  
かぎづめ

“Sojiro Shimada. In the flesh.” Carlson mumbled around the cigar, nodding his head at the men who had entered the room.   
Sojiro narrowed his eyes, baffled by the casual stances of the three men in front of him. He motioned for his bodyguards to take up positioning in the room, lest there be any stupid decisions on the part of Deadlock. 

The man, Carlson, was lounging, feet up on the poker table, with two middle-aged, more shit-scared looking men on either side.   
A quick scan of the room showed one more man resting against one of the back walls, wide-brimmed Stetson hat shadowing most of his face. Sojiro almost laughed at the lack of support this washed up gang supplied in such a dangerous meeting. Perhaps they underestimated the power of the Shimada’s.   
Stupid Americans.

“And I am to assume that you are Carlson Wright, one of the current heads of the Deadlock gang?” Carlson nodded.   
“Sure as hell am. Now let us get the formalities out of the way, shall we? This is Kip” He gestured to his left, and then to his right “And Tommy.” He leaned back in his chair, pointing behind him. “And that there is Jesse.”   
The man, Jesse, dipped his hat towards the Shimada’s at the introduction. An American cowboy. Hanzo laughed in his mind. Just like in the movies.

Sojiro nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Hanzo stepped up to his side.  
“As you know, I am Sojiro Shimada, the current leader of the Shimada clan. This is my eldest son, Hanzo.” Sojiro raised a hand and gestured towards Hanzo, who gave a very stiff, very small bow.

“I imagine you are wondering why I, rather than one of my representatives, has come to deliberate over this negotiation, and I assure you, it has nothing to do with my clan losing power, as the rumors flittering between your men would indicate.”  
Carlson stiffened up at his words. He must have someone or something delivering information from our ranks.  
“In fact, this is but a small diversion from my rather important matters at hand here in America, so let us get underway, shall we?”

Sojiro’s head inclined towards the man standing by the wall behind the poker table, speaking with a deathly low voice. “I would suggest removing your hand from your weapon, boy before I am forced to cut it off.” Carlson whipped his head around to Jesse, glaring daggers.  
Hanzo glanced up and saw a gloved hand, previously resting on the hilt of what looked like a revolver, slowly raise up to cross over a muscled chest.  
Sojiro spoke once more.   
“If your intentions were to capture myself or even perhaps to kill us tonight, I can assure you.”   
He paused and leaned over the table, staring at Carlson and his two men. “Your hands would not reach your holsters before your heads were removed from your shoulders.”

Hanzo had to hold back a laugh at the sight of the three men nearly pissing their pants at the threat, and a long few seconds passed before anyone moved or spoke.  
Sojiro sat at the poker table, opposite Carlson, and Hanzo took his seat beside him, adjusting his suit jacket to avoid creasing it.

Sojiro spoke in Japanese to one of his bodyguards, who handed him a black briefcase. Sojiro placed it on the table in front of the gang members, taunting. He spoke with a challenge in his voice.

“Let us begin then.” 

 

Part III  
眼

 

“Why couldn’t we have dealt with a more professional arms dealer than that bunch of loose hounds?” Hanzo and Sojiro sat at a bar table, glasses of hundred year aged whiskey in hand. Sojiro eyed his son.  
“Hanzo. That gang, whether it looks it on the outside, is dangerous. Like the saying goes, we must keep our friends close but our enemies closer.”  
Hanzo shook his head.   
“What does our clan need with such weapons anyways? We don’t even employ Omnics, Japan has the lowest number of them per capita, what is your plan father?”

Sojiro considered for a moment, swilling his glass. Hanzo shifted and adjusted his tie, a nervous habit he often employed around his father.   
“I’ve heard rumors about an uprising in planning. If the day comes when we may need to utilise such a device, we should have them at the ready.”  
Sojiro met with Hanzo’s gaze.  
“I would have thought you’d be able to figure that one out on your own, Hanzo.’

Hanzo’s face flushed with embarrassment. He was only 19, yet his father expected him to know almost everything to do with the family business. “Yes father. I apologise.”  
Sojiro grunted, sipping his whiskey again. 

“This town stinks of piss and bad alcohol. I don’t want to stay in it any longer. We leave at sunrise, to meet your Aunt in Calgary.” Hanzo raised his eyebrows. “Calgary? I thought Akira was living in the south?” 

Sojiro hummed and downed the remainder of his whiskey, eyes narrowed at the glass as if it had displeased him. Hanzo’s eyes traced the intricate design of his father's tattoo, his own arm burning where the faint beginnings of his design had been drawn.   
“Apparently the omnic activity in California has been increasing massively in the past few months, to avoid being caught in the crossfire, she evacuated north. She still refuses my requests to have her move back to Japan.”  
Hanzo’s aunt had once lived in the castle with them, back then he and his brother Genji were very young. 

“Father, Genji loved Akira, why is it you have chosen to leave him behind in Japan.?” Sojiro sighed, and suddenly looked very much older than he was, and Hanzo noticed the grey lines in his hair and beard, the wrinkles in his immaculate skin.  
“I fear that Genji does not have the right attitude to represent the clan, he is too wild. I have left him with your mother in the hopes that she can try to put him back on the correct path.”  
Hanzo felt a twinge of fear strike through his heart.   
His mother, Kanata, had never been the affectionate type, and his wrists and back tingled with memories of beatings for not performing to a high enough standard. Hanzo’s heart went out to his little brother, and he prayed that Genji could at least pretend to be well mannered just to avoid the pain of their mother's beatings. 

“So you refuse to bring him as a sort of punishment then?”   
Hanzo’s tone was clipped, not unnoticed by his father before him.   
“Your brother is wayward, Hanzo, and if he continues to act this way you would be wise to try your best to help him act as the Shimada he is, lest the elders decide on a more drastic outcome.”

Hanzo fell quiet. His parents seemed to be the only people who could make him feel small when he was the destined heir to their families crime empire. He shrunk back into his chair, head held high like a dragon no longer.

Sojiro watched his son, a near mirror image of himself, yet with the soft eyes of his mother. How deceiving, that such a snake like her could have such warm eyes. He breathed a sigh through his nose and stood.  
“Let us go, my son, we only have a few hours until we must begin traveling again.

Hanzo stood, shaking out the creases of his suit, quietly trailing his father through the deserted bar, and out into the dark streets beyond. 

Part IIII  
嘴  
Jesse sat back on his haunches, face only lit by the cigarette that hung out of his mouth. He sat motionless on the rooftop, eyes glued on the high-class bar on the street below him.  
He didn’t really know why he’d followed the two Japanese men here after the meeting. Perhaps to avoid getting the shit beaten out of him by Carlson for running his mouth again.   
His eyes rested on the leftmost window of the bar.  
He could see the faint outline of the younger Shimada, Hanzo, through the dark glass, facing his father who was obscured by the high chairs.   
Their bodyguards stood all around the perimeter of the bar, eyes watching for any sign of danger. Jesse remembered his cigarette and extinguished it on the roof underneath him before anyone noticed the smoke. Motionless as a gargoyle, the guards had not yet noticed his presence.   
Jesse wondered why men so well protected by guards would choose to sit near a window that gave a sniper easy vantage at their necks. His eyes grazed over the window again, and he noticed a more metallic glean to it in the moonlight.  
Bulletproof glass. That explained it.

His eyes snapped back to Hanzo as he saw movement. The young man was standing up, perhaps they were leaving already. Jesse watched him adjust his jacket before he disappeared into the bar. A few moments later they both exited, two bodyguards in tow.   
Jesse’s heart hitched when his eyes fell on Hanzo’s face again. He’s one pretty mother fucker, I’ll give him that. Hanzo’s hair was messier than it was during the meeting, and one wavy strand fell over his face, before being pushed back by a manicured hand.  
He was frowning, eyes downcast at his father’s feet.  
Jesse did not move from his perch on the roof, but he knew that if he ever saw Hanzo Shimada again, he probably wouldn’t let him walk away like he did that night.  
Whether that meant a knife in Jesse’s heart or not.


	2. Epilogue; Tiger Tiger

Part I  
虎 虎

The rooftop was damp but hardly abandoned. A man stood apart from the shadows, navy suit almost shimmering in the moonlight. His young, handsome face betrayed his vicious personality, his caramel skin obscuring the venom underneath.

Before him stood another, Sojiro, much older yet just as cunning. Or so he had thought. In his ear men chattered away orders and messages telling him that his group of assassins had eyes and guns pointed at the man before him, ready to kill at the first sign of danger. 

Sojiro was the first to cut through the silence that hung heavily in the air.  
“In my culture, it is respectful for introductions to occur before a deal is made.” Sojiro bowed deeply. “I am Sojiro Shimada, I do not yet believe you have given me your name.”  
The younger man grinned, white teeth gleaming in an unnatural way.  
“Alas, I am not yet notorious enough as you for my name to already be known worldwide, Mr. Shimada. But, you may call me Dhiren.”

Sojiro could pick up the faint Indian accent from the man before him, heavily hidden by his rich voice.  
Dhiren began to pace the rooftop, agonisingly slow.  
“I've heard your family’s empire is beginning to crumble, the war must have been taking its toll on your ranks.”  
Sojiro felt himself bristle, tingles shot up his chest and burned through the tattoo on his neck.  
“I would not suggest insulting the Shimada clan straight to my face. You must know we are notorious for killing people who run their mouth a little too loosely.”  
Dhiren chuckled.  
“Ah yes, I apologise. I did not come here to make an enemy of you, Sojiro.”

Dhiren walked towards Sojiro, brushing off non-existent dirt off of his suit. The older man clicked an alert button placed on the inside of his palm, letting his men know to shoot if Dhiren all but touched him.  
A foot away, the young man stopped walking.  
He smiled at Sojiro, baring his teeth.  
“The great patriarch of the Shimada empire lured out of his den by the promise of a few clockwork soldiers that he doesn’t know even exist. I must say, I’m not very impressed by your desperation.”  
Sojiro, once the proud head of his family, felt fear settle in his stomach for the first time in decades.  
“I admire your attempt at bringing in bodyguards for yourself, however, they weren’t much of a fight for my pets, so you can take that earpiece out now.” Dhiren chuckled and turned his back on the Shimada, who whispered into his earpiece with no response from his backup.

Sojiro’s fear blossomed as he turned back to the man, hands shaking. “The Shimada do not go down as easily as you may imagine.” His tattoo burned underneath his suit. “If you wish to kill me, I will insist on taking you down with me.”  
Dhiren laughed, turning back to face Sojiro.  
“I would hope that you would be a challenge, however, I’m starting to believe that you’ll be just as easy to kill as the rest of your weak clan.”

Sojiro closed his eyes and thought of his two sons back in Japan, and let his fear transform into anger, staining his eyes and tattoo in an electric red.  
As he drew his katana from its sheath on his back, he called out his summoning cry, calling upon the great dragon spirits to aid him in his battle. It had been years since he had last used the dragons, yet the words still felt like pure liquid power on his tongue.  
“Idaina ryū, watashi ni anata no chikara o kasu!”  
Red light blossomed out of his katana as he plunged it down in an arc, piercing the concrete roof as if he were sticking a toothpick into butter.  
Thunder rocked through the foundations of the building, and concrete flew every direction as his red dragon cracked through the concrete towards Dhiren, diving out of the ground a few meters from the young man, needle teeth bared, ready for blood.  
Dhiren’s smile only grew as he let out a low whistle.  
Sojiro saw a flash of bronze before his dragon was thrown out of its path to Dhiren’s neck. HIs heart plummeted into his stomach as he saw something he had never witnessed in his life before. His red dragon, thrown into the hard ground of the roof, a giant metal tiger’s teeth wrapped around its ethereal throat.  
Sojiro cried out for his dragon as the tiger bit through its neck. As the dragon’s body disintegrated into a pool of electric red, the metal tiger turned to face Sojiro, steam hissing out of its jaw and from behind its limbs. 

Sojiro backed away, his back hitting the damp wall behind him, his whole body shaking with fear. “What… what is that thing?” He mumbled out, eyes glued to the metal beast, standing within the red mist left behind from his dragon.  
“Beautiful, isn’t she? Majarah is my greatest creation, an omnic beast powerful enough to take down a Shimada dragon. Sorry to say, Sojiro, but you’re not the top dog anymore.”  
Dhiren moved to pat the shiny head of his metal tiger, who stood as tall as her master's shoulders, eyes gleaming red.  
“Now, I don’t have much time left before I have to go and take over the world, so, unfortunately, I have to make this quick. It's a real shame Sojiro, your family was such a large piece on the chessboard once, now you’re just in my way.”  
Dhiren turned towards the fire escape of the roof, walking away from the beast and Sojiro, who was collapsed to his knees on the other side of the roof.  
“And don’t worry, you’ll see your sons in heaven soon enough.” He called out over his shoulder, reaching the edge of the rooftop.  
Dhiren’s chuckle echoed across to Sojiro as he disappeared down the stairs of the fire escape.

Tears slid down his cheeks as he looked weakly at the metallic beast before him, whose tail was twitching in anticipation.  
“I’m sorry Hanzo, Genji. I love you.” Was what he managed to whisper just before the clockwork tiger leapt towards him, teeth glittering in the moonlight, aimed directly at the Shimada king’s neck.


End file.
